So I've been driving all over hill and dale finding wifi hotspots in town while waiting for my internet connection to be hooked up at my place. In the meantime I've started composing blog posts off line (gasp!), but we all know I'm an impulsive creature and this doesn't suit me as much as you'd think. I love the immediacy of writing and publishing one-two-three.
Tonight I've been working on a couple of film reviews and a longish piece on depression (particularly in black women). It's rough and not pretty and right now it's all over the place. Writing while depressed can be quite a slog. I'm pretty 'high functioning' even when at my worst - that's to say I generally shower and wear clean clothes during my down periods, but actual doing of things, up to and including thinking clearly - that's a struggle.
Being bipolar means that antidepressants are generally contraindicated (at least by themselves) in part because they can precipitate euphoric/manic states (which unbeknownst [hey, that isn't really a word, is it?] to me they did for a while). I've taken two different mood stabilizers, both of which dampened down my irritability and highs but did nothing for my lows, making life pretty unattractive. Right now I have been nearly craving prozac for the lovely near mania it produces in me after a few weeks. I'm so sick of being low, I cannot begin to tell you.
I hate talking about it knowing that it turns people off, but I also hate feeling as though something which right now is a very large part of life is not on the table for discussion. It's important to acknowledge it and when its relevant, talk about it.